#vaynai

Who is more extra/dramatic?

Who is sassier?

Who is more done with his job (and his boss' love life)?

I've given the crew port leave. It's been too long since I've let them stretch their legs and they were all showing the early signs of cabin fever.

Vaynai is not a planet I've visited before. It's a resort planet for families and for business looking to seal the deal with new clients. There's a single spaceport, located on one of the handful of mesas that poke out of the single ocean that covers the entire planet.

The crew scrambles off the ship and I only follow them as far as the Greemesa Market. It's a vacation destination, so the stalls are filled with distractions, entertainment and food. The prices are double what they should be, but with my mastery of the Force, I have never felt comfortable haggling. I buy two bowls of glaavyuk, four bottles of Endorian mead, and head back to the ship.

I relieve Fordsy of his guard duty. He insists he stay. Then he sees the two dinners I'm carrying. "I've gone longer than the recommended amount of time between shut downs," he admits. "Please reactivate me should something happen or we leave the planet."

Humaira's door opens with a beep and a whoosh. She's surprised to see me. I offer her one of the bowls of glaavyuk and nod for her to follow me. "Want some fresh air?"

We sit on the loading ramp of the Nexu, eating our spicy noodles and fish as we take in the oceanic panorama. We eat in silence, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves. Gulls caw overhead, circling us in the hopes we'll toss them some glaav.

"So what does a princess have to do to get a thirty thousand credit bounty put on her head?"

Humaira smiles. She knew this question was coming. "I was sacrificed on the altar of commercialism."

I'm not sure what that means, so I say, "I'm not sure what that means."

"What do you know about Cantonica," she asks.

I shake my head. I've got someone in Canto Bight, who keeps an eye out for purses that need pilfering, but I know little to nothing about the planet itself.

"We have a sister planet," she takes a sip of mead, "Bonadan. To show that there were no hard feelings about a business transaction that went sideways, I was given to Prince D'wonel."

"Given?" I don't like the sound of that.

"For his collection," Humaira nods matter-of-factly. "He had a harem of playthings from all across the galaxy. I didn't take too kindly to that, so on the night he called me to his chambers, I took a sword and stuck it so far into his stomach that I pinned him to the bed." She presents herself like the prestige of a magic trick, "thus the bounty."

I don't want to believe her. I want this to be a ruse, an act. I want her to by lying, trying to get on my good side so I'll think twice about collecting on her bounty. But she's telling the truth. She's as imperfect as anyone else, but the actual and complete victim here.

"Five hundred years ago this corner of the galaxy was given to a collection of corporations to govern and control, creating an oligarchical fiefdom of planets." Humaira spits every word with disgust. "Greed is their creed and life is cheap."

"What'll happen," I ask.

She doesn't respond. Her eyes are distant, disappearing into the rhythm of the waves. "They'll make a big show of it," she finally says, her voice as distant as her gaze. "Thanks for the final meal, I've never had glaavyuk before." Then, as almost an afterthought, "I've never been to the ocean before."

"That means you've never swam in the ocean before," I astutely realize.

"Never been in a body of water that wasn't manmade," she answers, finishing her mead.

"Well then let's make your last night a night of a couple of firsts, too." I stand and use the Force to whip the empty bottle of mead out of her hand. "Let's go."

I lead her down the ramp. We circle under and around the ship, walking the length of dock. With the ship between us and the rest of the port, I strip down to my undergarments. She follows my lead, slipping out of her dress and diving in behind me.

The water is warm and salty. The current gently flows around us. It's just shallow enough that we're able to touch the soft sand beneath us as each lolling wave sets us down.

Humaira laughs, a moment of natural joy washing over her. She lays down, floating on her back and letting the ebb and flow decide where she goes. She hums to herself, a peaceful smile sliding across her lips.

"So how do you make peace with being a Jedi and a pirate?" She opens one eye to see my reaction. "I thought Jedi were supposed to not have material possessions."

"It's actually really easy," I say, "I'm not a Jedi."

She sits up, splashing into a standing position. "What?"

"The Jedi Order was a religion," I explain, "and the Force is bigger than any church. It's universal. It flows through us and around us. It connects every living being to one another. It's like the tide of this ocean, pushing and pulling us and with the right practice, you can use it to your advantage."

Comparing it to the being caught in the current of a river or ocean is the best way I can think of to explain what it feels like to be me. I feel the flow of the Force so profoundly that I have to remind myself that others don't feel it at all.

"Sometimes I tell it what to do and sometimes it tells me what to do."

I can see the question forming. It's on her lips so I answer it before she voices it.

"I believe there is a great imbalance in the galaxy. The rich and powerful are only getting richer and more powerful while the poor and weak are only getting poorer and weaker. I'm trying to bring some balance to the galaxy by taking from the rich what they don't need and giving it to those who do." I present myself like the prestige of a magic trick, mirroring Humaira. "Hence the piracy."

"Can you mind control people?"

"I don't like to," I say uneasily.

"But you do."

"I can."

"So you do."

I frown. "I don't like taking away people's ability to choose, but," I admit, "there have been times when if a guard could just look over there for a second, I could get away."

"Could you convince your crew to just look over there so I could get away?" Humaira asks. There's a smile on her face, so she can claim she's joking, but the question is clearly sincere. "Or could you, I don't know, convince them to let me join the crew?"

"Join the crew?" I almost laugh. "What can you do?"

"Oh," she says very seriously, "I can fly circles around your best pilot."

She believes this. It's not up for debate with her. She is the best pilot she's ever known.

I nod back to the Nexu. "Show me."

Humaira sits down in the cockpit. She pulls her hair back and stabs one of the chopsticks from dinner in it.

"This is a Corellian freighter," she surmises. "YT series?"

"YT-2000," I nod.

Her eyes dance across the controls and then with a nod, she looks back at me. "Okay."

I couldn't convince a single person on my crew that this is a good idea. Handing over the pilot's seat to a prisoner who knows their life is over if they're turned in is the sort of thing I would never be able to explain to anyone, ever. But Humaira's intentions are pure. She just wants to show off. She wants to impress someone.

The Nexu lifts off the landing pad. But instead of nosing up and heading for the stars, Humaira keeps the ship low and punches it. We rocket out over the ocean, spraying water in our wake. She puts us into a spin before pulling back suddenly and sharply, sending us skyward. The timing on the maneuver is impressive.

She kills the engines, putting us into freefall. We plummet downward, going faster and faster as the planet pulls us down for a tight embrace. My stomach is in my mouth and my eyes are shut. She waits a second longer than I think she should before bringing the engines back to life and sending us straight for the horizon.

We're flying upside down, with the ocean above us and sky below. We bank a long, slow arc to the starboard, putting the resorts directly ahead of us.

"Oh no," I hear myself say as I realize she's about to get us into a lot of trouble.

Humaira laughs as she increases power to the thrusters. The resorts are coming up fast. They're too small and we're moving to fast for me to see them, but it's easy for me to imagine vacationers stopping what they're doing as they see a freighter barreling down on them. They turn to one another, wondering what they should do. Bomba chokes on whatever he's eating as he recognizes the foolhardy ship.

I watch in silence, in horror, and in amazement as Humaira weaves us through and around the resort's buildings and towers. We never come close to even grazing one of them. She is incomplete control. She is one with the ship.

Humaira points at me. "There it is. That's the face I was going for."

She sets us down on the landing pad and spins around in her chair to face me. She holds out her hands to ask, "well?"

I can't look her in the eye. "Thirty thousand credits is too much," I say. "They would mutiny."

Humaira sighs a long, low sigh. It's not the answer she wanted but it's the answer she expected. "I'll show myself back to my room."

"I'm sorry," I start to say, but then stop. A plan is starting to form. It's less than a plan. It's a thought, the vaguest of ideas.

Humaira is standing at the door, one foot out. She's looking down at me, an eyebrow cocked. I see the curiosity and desperation in her eyes.